No One Has to Know
by pillar-of-salt
Summary: The one thing they always got right was the sex.
1. Chapter 1

Election Night.

* * *

"_Oh please—you only think money is power because it's paying you!"_

"_Money is America, Nadine!"_

"_Oh my god."_

/

"Oh my god," she says now, except this time it's less of a scoff and more of a moan.

He's got her flat on her back and half naked in his bed and he's everywhere, overwhelming her senses. Not for the first time that night, Nadine wonders what the hell she thinks she's doing letting the Dark Prince of K Street put his hands on her body.

But _god_ it's good, and she's feeling greedy.

She always gets laid on election night. It's practically a Washington tradition (at least, it's _her_ Washington tradition), and just because she knows Mike Barnow is a logically terrible choice doesn't mean she's going to pass up on it now.

And anyway, they're both already down to their underwear and it would just be a waste to call things quits before either of them even get a chance to have some decent fun. At least that's how she rationalizes it to herself. She'll sort out the consequences in the morning along with the rest of the political detritus.

Her bra has been tossed to some corner of the room and Mike's currently got his face in her chest, kissing over her breasts and sucking first one nipple and then the other into his mouth until she squirms. She buries a hand in his hair and holds him in place as he swirls his tongue and, very gently, uses teeth. He pinches the other one between his fingers and she inhales sharply.

He kisses his way back up her neck and cradles her jaw in his hands as he covers her lips in a rough kiss. She presses her mouth harder against his, her body harder against his. She loves everything about the way he's been touching her tonight, like he can barely contain how much he wants her, how desirable he finds her.

He suddenly reaches down with one hand while she isn't paying attention and slides it into her underwear. He cups her and she gasps sharply, breaking the kiss.

"Jesus, you're wet," he mumbles. "Has no one been taking care of you?" He presses one long finger inside her and she groans.

"I — I — fuck…"

He strokes in and out, watching her face. "How long has it been?"

She won't answer that. "I'm not out of practice if that's what you're worried about," she retorts, with dignity. Her hips rock in counterpoint to his finger.

"Of course not." He's watching the fluid lines of her body with dark eyes and adds another finger. "It's like riding a bike, huh." He moves them back and forth inside her. He slides back a little so that he can crouch down, at eye level with her hips, and fasten his mouth to the inside of her thigh. He sucks on her skin hard enough to mark her.

She winds her leg around his neck. "I hope you'll make it more fun than that."

He responds by sliding his fingers out and over her clit. She gives a strangled moan and arches her back. "Fuck. Yeah," Mike breathes, watching her hungrily. "Yeah. I'll make it fun for you, baby."

"D-don't call me that."

He doesn't reply. He pulls his hand away, making her groan in protest. He urges her to lift her hips so that he can pull her underwear off and fling it behind him. He slides his palm over one smooth thigh before bracing it over his shoulder again. With the other, he brushes his fingertips lightly over wet flesh. She squirms. What a tease. She hooks her leg, trying to leverage herself closer. And when Mike does it again, she pushes her hips into his hand.

He grins. "Impatient," he says.

"Ready," she corrects. _Get up here and fuck me, _she wants to say, but doesn't, because she doesn't want to prove him right.

"I like that." Even in bed, he talks far too much. She reaches down to pull him up, and he takes the hint. He leaves one last sucking kiss on her other thigh before climbing his way back up her body, and Nadine reaches down between them. She runs her hand firmly over his cotton-covered length and his hips twitch. She pushes his boxers down over his hips so that he springs free, and then pushes them the rest of the way down with her feet. She wastes no time getting her hands on him and he groans, dipping his face into her neck as she strokes him. He's achingly hard and thick in her hand—a little bigger in girth, maybe, than she's used to. He's going to fill her up nicely, and she can feel herself throb in anticipation. God, it's been a long time.

She pumps him a few times until he's rocking his hips into her hand. Then she wraps her legs around his hips and grinds her wetness against him.

"Fuck," he swears. He slides his cock over her slick clit in a slow back and forth and she sighs. She forces his mouth onto hers in a bruising kiss.

"Condom?" she breathes.

Blindly, he reaches a hand out to the nightstand and pulls open the drawer. He scrabbles around inside for a moment before pulling out a foiled packet and a small bottle of lube. He pulls back from her to get himself set up, but she takes it from him and tears it open herself. She rolls it expertly down his length and then uses her legs to turn him slightly. He gets the hint and rolls over onto his back so that she's perched on his lap. She takes the lube from him and pours out a little over the tip of his cock. She snaps the bottle closed and places it on the nightstand as she spreads the slickness over him with her hand. She strokes him lightly, teasing until he's bucking his hips just the tiniest bit.

"Come on, Nadine," he breathes.

"Yeah?" She rises up on her knees, positioning him at her entrance. If she weren't getting so antsy herself she might tease him a little more, make him work a little harder for it. She sinks down on him slowly, just a couple of inches, before rising up again. She bites her lip as she does this a couple more times, taking more of his length with each. Once she's fully seated, she stills and gives her body a second to adjust to him. She exhales shakily; god, it's intense already, and she hasn't even started _moving_ yet. She clenches around him and he moans, hands shooting to her thighs.

His hands slide up and down her legs, then move up her waist and over her breasts. When Mike runs his thumbs over her nipples, she hums and leans down to kiss him, deep and slow. She braces her hands on his chest, and begins to move.

He fits his hands to her hips as she rocks on top of him, not controlling her pace, just stabilizing her as he matches her rhythm.

"Mm," she says softly, "that's good." She puts a little more force behind her hips, savoring the shiver that shoots up her spine in response.

"Yeah," he agrees, "very, very good." Suddenly, he flips them over and she lands on her back with a soft _thump_ and a gasp. "And you are very, very sexy." He keeps the same rhythm, but slides a hand under her and lifts her up, grabs a pillow up by the headboard, and slips it under her hips. When he resumes fucking her on the new angle, her lips part and her eyes flutter shut, hands scrabbling for purchase against the sheets. Her moan, this time, is higher in pitch and sounds closer to a whine. He didn't know she could make a sound like that.

"Yeah," she says. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Like that?"

"More," she breathes. She moves her hands over her own breasts. "Mmh, god."

"No god," he pants, "just Mike."

She slaps his ass and he almost jumps in surprise. "Harder, Mike."

He grins widely. "Yes, ma'am." And punctuates it with a rough thrust.

Nadine brings her hand up to her lips and wets her middle two fingers. She works it between their bodies and uses it to rub her clit as he rocks into her. Mike watches her intensely.

"That's hot. Fuck." He leans forward and bends her leg, pushing it up so that her shin is pressed against his chest, and thrusts again, deeper.

"Mhmm — just like that," she says. Her fingers work tight little circles over her clit.

"Are you — are you close?" he asks through gritted teeth. "Nadine, I—"

"No, don't you dare," she warns. "Not before I get to."

He leans down and buries his face in her neck, muffling a groan.

"Just keep going. Just like that, yeah—" Her brow furrows in focus, and she swirls her fingers even faster between her legs, holding the rapidly growing tension in every muscle in her body.

Mike grunts as he continues to rock into her. He licks the skin just under her jaw, then nips at it with his teeth. "Fuck."

"Mhmm." The next second, Nadine lets out a hoarse shout, followed by nothing but breathy moans and clenching muscles as her body arches beneath his and begins to shudder uncontrollably. Mike drops the last shred of his control and fucks her at a frantic pace, riding out her wave as he chases his own release. She eventually slackens under him but he continues to fuck into her sensitized body hard and fast, making her lips part and her eyes roll back. Mike lets go with a strangled yell and collapses to the side so that he doesn't crush her beneath him.

They pant heavily as they try to catch their breath again, sweat cooling on their skin. Nadine laughs delightedly, still riding a euphoric high, and Mike mumbles "wow". Carefully, he reaches down to remove the condom and tie it up. He leans over the bed to drop it into the wastebasket on the other side of his nightstand, then flops back down next to Nadine. His hand brushes down her arm searchingly and his fingers loosely entangle with her own.

"Jesus. We should have done that sooner," he announces. He pulls her hand up to his mouth and kisses the back of it affectionately. "All those missed opportunities. We could have been doing this the whole time."

She resists the urge to snicker because on his best day, the man is barely tolerable. She has a hard time thinking of a scenario in which her interactions with him could have possibly led to sex.

"And in what past situation would we have considered fucking each other?" Besides this one. Wherein they're both buzzed, euphoric, and (in Nadine's case, at least) basking in the promise of newfound job security.

"Oh, I've thought about it several times. I can explain several ways in which it might have panned out," he says matter-of-factly. He turns his head to look at her. "Most of my fantasies involved hate sex."

Nadine snorts. It's not that delusional, actually. She loves hate sex — it's probably done her more favors in her lifetime than not-hate sex. "Fair enough."

"They probably won't anymore, though."

"I won't count on it." She rolls over and gets out of bed. "I'm gonna clean up."

"I'm not done with you yet," he calls after her.

She smirks. "God, I hope not."

* * *

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

"_Can I at least call you?"_

"_You can certainly try."_

/

Her phone rings again for the seventh time this month (not that she's counting) and Nadine has to hand it to him — he's certainly no quitter.

In his voicemails he suggests that she call him back, but she doesn't. She won't indulge him.

And though she's been successfully dodging his calls since election night, she's been doing a less-than-stellar job of _not_ thinking about him in her free time, and this annoys the crap out of her. He creeps into her mind when she's alone at night.

Whether or not she touches herself to the thought of him is nobody's business but hers.

Alone in her bed, Nadine moans as her head snaps back, and she comes hard around her own fingers, quaking almost violently.

She stares at the ceiling of her bedroom, breathing hard. She never orgasms like _this_ under her own touch. What is happening to her?

And the universe clearly doesn't believe in cutting her a break, because the next morning the devil himself is lounging in her office.

"Mike, what are you doing here?" What is she supposed to say? _Hey, Mike! Last night I fucked myself thinking about you and I came so hard I nearly cracked a rib._

She knows he wants to date her — he's made his interest very clear. But she isn't lying when she tells him that he isn't her type (or wasn't). Just because she's physically attracted to him doesn't mean that dating him would actually be a good idea. They would argue all the time; he would drive her up a wall. One of them would probably end up throttling the other. She just knows it.

But she hears herself conceding to 'think about' dinner (when what she wants to say is _yes_, and knows that what she should say is _no_), and then he's leaning in and whispering in her ear — "You look _amazing_, by the way" — and she's instantly, embarrassingly wet. Because that's all it takes apparently. And then he's gone.

Nadine takes a deep, shuddering breath, and then gets back to work.

Because she can't stop thinking about him (can't stop touching herself to the thought of him), she agrees to dinner. They make a date for next week.

And then at dinner ("my son couldn't make it," he informs her unapologetically), he lays down his case as to why they ought to give it a go. It doesn't sway her, so he says, "We can just try it out. More dates like this. I like spending time with you. If it doesn't work out, then no hard feelings."

She's still not entirely convinced. He lets it go easily, steering the conversation toward other topics, and they don't revisit it again. They talk a little bit about work, and a lot about other things. He makes her laugh.

When he delivers her to her door at the end of the night, she turns to him and says, "I had a good time tonight," and is surprised to find that it's the truth.

"I did too," he says. "We should do it again sometime."

"Maybe." _Invite him in!_ the reckless part of her brain urges. _Invite him in! Invite him in! In-vite-him-in! _"Would you like to come in?" Damn it.

His smile is genuine. "I would."

Her heart pounds in her ears as she unlocks her door and flips on the foyer lights, allowing Mike to follow her in. She drops her purse on the front table and offers to take his coat.

"Nice place," he says, looking around as she turns on more lights.

"Thanks. Make yourself comfortable." She feels very jittery as she hangs up both of their coats in the hall closet and then turns back around. "Nightcap?" And then she's walking toward her liquor cabinet before he can even respond.

She's pretending to peruse the selection when he walks up behind her. When he places his hands high on her shoulders, near the nape of her neck, she almost jumps. "You're nervous," he murmurs. He squeezes, pressing the balls of his thumbs into the muscle. She bites her lip. "And tense."

"I just don't know what we're doing," she admits quietly. Her eyes fall shut as he continues to knead her shoulders.

"What do you want us to be doing?"

"That isn't the point."

"It seems like it should be the point. In fact, I think it's the only thing that really matters."

"We work together," she protests feebly. "What I want, what you want... it's inappropriate."

He turns her around and they are suddenly very, very close. "I think," he murmurs, "that no one has to know what we do when we're alone."

She's done resisting him. She closes the distance between them and captures his lips with hers.

It's a slow kiss, but hard and deep and so assured, with his nose pressed against hers and her teeth nipping at his lips and his tongue sliding through her mouth. Mike presses her back against the shelf and the bottles behind her rattle softly on impact.

She tucks her fingers into the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer. His hands settle on her waist. She begins to work on the buttons of his shirt. She pushes it off his shoulders and then pulls his undershirt up and over his head. He reaches around behind her and tugs on the zip of her dress, pulling it all the way down to the base of her spine. Nadine shimmies out of it, leaving her in her bra and underwear.

Mike rakes his eyes over her and she feels exposed. She fights the urge to cross her arms over her chest — she's never been self-conscious about her body, and she refuses to start now. "I did not appreciate you enough last time," he says.

Her hands go to his belt buckle and make quick work of his pants. After he steps out of them, she tugs him closer with a little jerk on the waistband of his boxers. She runs the palm of one hand along the tented front and he shudders. "Appreciate me now."

He grabs her by the back of the neck and pulls her in for another kiss, desperate, hard, _lewd_. He cups her breast, giving a firm squeeze, and then she feels his hand slip into her panties, slide through her heat, and she moans right into his mouth.

"Awfully wet," he says. "Were you thinking about this all evening?" He strokes up over her clit and she pushes her hips into his hand.

"Weren't you?" She grabs him firmly through his boxers and he presses his forehead to hers.

"Sweetheart, I've been thinking about this all _month_." He presses two fingers inside of her and grins, a little self-deprecatingly, at the hitch in her breathing. "Maybe all year. Maybe since election night."

"Prove it to me."

His fingers curl inside her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. _Christ…_" Her head falls against his shoulder as he begins to grind his hand against her in a very distracting rhythm.

"I can do that."

"Bedroom," she says, and she even almost manages to make it sound like an order. "Bedroom now."

He immediately extricates his hand from her underwear. "Yes ma'am." He picks her up. She wraps her legs around his waist and directs him down the hall and into the master bedroom between kisses, grinding her hips against him as much as she's able.

He drops her down on the bed and crawls up after her, pausing on his journey to yank her panties down. He kisses the side of her knee, then uses his hands to pin her hips firmly against the mattress. "I might be a little out of practice," he warns. He lowers his head. "Hold still for me."

"_Oh_." Her spine curves up at the first stroke of his tongue over her center. She couldn't obey his instruction if she tried. He begins to go down on her with an enthusiasm that makes her want to grab him by the hair and beg, and she… she's going to come embarrassingly fast, actually.

His head pops up, and she resists the urge to push it back down. He looks at her, lips and chin glistening obscenely. "I don't know how you expect me to get you off when you keep squirming around so much," he says, and she could actually kill him.

But before she can give a sharp response, he flashes her a boyish grin and lowers his head again. Her eyes slide closed and she moans, lifting her hips toward his mouth as much as she's allowed. And then she feels those teeth graze lightly over her clit and that does it.

The air leaves her body in a keening moan as she clutches at his head and presses her hips desperately into his face, shaking.

He rides her through her orgasm, licking patiently even after she releases him. "God," he mumbles. "You're beautiful." She slides her legs off his shoulders and he kisses her thigh before nosing his way back toward her center again. He gives her experimental little licks until she's fighting to close her legs and squirm away.

"Enough, that's enough," she gasps.

He climbs his way back up her body.

"I appreciate," she breathes, "your attention to detail."

He cups her jaw and kisses her hungrily. She can taste herself on it. "I appreciate details," he says, and flashes her a devilish little grin that makes her weak.

Nadine gives him a couple of strokes with her hand and then gently presses the heel of her foot against his ass to bring his hips flush with hers. He gets the hint.

He guides himself inside her, taking a few shallower strokes until he's fully seated. He leans down to kiss her softly as he gives her time to adjust to him.

Nadine wraps her legs around him and locks her ankles at the small of his back. She tilts her hips up until she can feel the rough friction of his pubic hair against her clit. "Like you mean it, Barnow."

Immediately, he pins her hands over her head and thrusts into her, with _intention_. It makes her a little short of breath. He gives her another full thrust. "Good enough for you?"

"Th-that'll do." She moans as he pushes into her again. She moves her hips in counterpoint, taking a few moments to sync her rhythm to his. "Oh my _god_."

His pace is slower than she usually likes; slower than the last time they ended up in bed together. But he's savoring her and it's deep and slick and so, so satisfying, and _really_ doing it for her, just like this. Mike grinds his pubic bone down against her clit on every thrust and the pressure is so delicious it makes her eyes flutter shut.

He kisses her deeply. "Can you come like this?"

It's _almost_ enough. "I… I think I…"

"What do you need, sweetheart?"

So eager to please. Nadine likes that about him.

"Just let me—" She unfolds her legs from his waist, trying to rearrange her position, and he seems to understand what she's trying to do. He releases her hands, grabs her legs, and slings them over his shoulders. He pulls back and enters her again, hard. She cries out so loudly that he hesitates.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Don't _stop_," she hisses. "For the love of God!"

He resumes immediately. "Not stopping. Not stopping."

It's so _ridiculously_ good; exactly what she needs. "Christ, that's deep." She feels downright dirty, on her back and folded nearly in half, getting jackhammered into her own mattress. And then he licks his thumb and reaches down between them to rub her clit as he pounds into her. It pulls a deep moan out of her. "Like that. That's perfect."

"Yeah?" he pants. "Is this what gets you off, Nadine? Being fucked like a little sex toy?"

Suddenly her head snaps back and she comes _hard_ underneath him, stars exploding behind her eyes as she cries out his name. She reaches for him, clutching at any part of him she can reach, as she gasps her way through her orgasm.

"Shit." There's a daffy grin on his face. "So that's how it is, huh?"

She trembles through the tiny little aftershocks that follow. "Mhmm," she manages in a disoriented hum. He lets her legs down from his shoulders gently. She can't even form _words_ right now, because he hasn't stopped fucking her at that same, measured pace, and it's very distracting.

"Always surprising me." He sounds a little out of breath. He dips his head into the crook of her neck, lips pressed against her collarbone, as he takes her body for himself. Nadine holds him against her and squeezes her inner muscles around him, pulsing, as he thrusts and groans into her skin. She squeaks when she suddenly feels the light graze of teeth traveling over her nipple, then across her sternum.

Mike falters, his hips stuttering as he reaches his peak. He comes with her nipple in his mouth, muffling the sound of his moan.

She doesn't let him roll off her. She wraps her arms around him and holds him there, enjoying the solidness of his frame on hers.

"So," she starts, after a long stretch of silence, "if this doesn't work out, no hard feelings."

He lifts his head to look at her. "Yeah?"

"That's what you said earlier."

"And I meant it. This can be our experiment. If you want."

She considers it. "Okay."


	3. Chapter 3

_Post 3.21. Pre-s3 finale._

/

He takes her to dinner and the symphony, and perhaps the real miracle of the night is that she doesn't even have to cancel on him. Perhaps the real miracle is that if she'd had to, it would have disappointed her.

He holds her hand and opens doors for her, and tells her that she's beautiful no less than four times before they even get to the concert hall.

They have a pleasantly avid discussion about Prokofiev's later-era concertos (Mike is convinced of their substantiveness in the Romantic literature; Nadine is convinced of nothing but their shapelessness), and that carries them through intermission and the walk down to the parking garage after the concert.

"So," he says, snaking an arm around her waist and tugging her close, "am I taking you home?"

"With you," she says.

He plants an affectionate kiss on her cheek. "Okay, good." When they reach his car, Mike opens the passenger side door and helps her in.

There's no traffic at this time of the night, but Mike lives on the other side of the beltway and there's a twenty-minute stretch of road between them and home. His home, anyway.

Nadine reaches over casually and rests her hand on top of his leg. In the comfortable silence, she slowly inches her hand up his thigh.

Mike knows exactly what she's doing, or what she's trying to do. She can tell because his breathing hitches.

"Nadine," he says warningly.

She pays him no mind as her hand slides all the way up and cups him through his pants. He shifts uncomfortably in the driver's seat as she starts to unzip his fly.

"Nadine."

She undoes her seatbelt and leans her upper body over the center console to give herself better access. Belt, button, fly all come loose under her hands.

"_Nadine_."

She ignores him as she frees his cock from his pants completely and gives it a full stroke.

"I'm _driving_," he sputters. His hands clench up on the steering wheel as he rocks slightly in his seat. "This is dangerous."

"I trust you," she says simply. "Don't you trust me?" Before he can answer, she flashes him a devastating smile and lowers her head into his lap.

He immediately buries one hand in her hair, but keeps the other one wrapped tight on the steering wheel. He exhales shakily. "This is bad. This is a bad idea," he babbles.

"Don't you ever loosen up?" she mumbles.

He laughs incredulously. "Is _Nadine Tolliver _really saying this to me right now?" She puts him back in his place by dragging the flat of her tongue up the length of his cock in one smooth motion. She licks the pre-come off his tip too, for good measure. His only response is a groan.

"How long until we get there?"

"Fifteen minutes," he says. She takes in the entire length of him in her mouth. "Ten minutes," he amends hastily. "Ten… ten minutes." She feels his leg flex slightly under her chin as he presses down on the accelerator.

"Do you think I can get you off in ten minutes?" she wonders. She alternates her words with teasing little licks and nibbles along his shaft.

"Without a doubt," he says. "But if you feel any mercy for me — and any value for your life — you won't."

"You could just pull over so I can finish you off."

He immediately shifts the car to the far lane, crossing three lanes of mostly-empty highway to do so, and takes the upcoming exit (their exit, conveniently). He drives a little further until he reaches an area he deems safe enough to pull off from and slows the car onto the shoulder, then onto the dirt where he stops and throws it into park.

Nadine grins mischievously. "Good man." And continues as she was. He rests his hand on the nape of her neck, squeezing lightly anytime she does something particularly pleasurable with her lips or tongue. She bobs up and down in a rhythm that she's learned he likes best, and it doesn't take long before he's spilling into her mouth with a plaintive groan, the muscles of his thighs taut under her hands. She swallows every last drop of him until he becomes too sensitive to her touch, and then she gently cleans him up with soft laps of her tongue and tucks him back into his pants. She wipes the edges of her mouth delicately with the back of one finger, then flips down the mirror to check her makeup. She leans back into her seat, arching her back a little.

"God," she sighs. "You make me wet." She drags up the hem of her dress and shoves a hand between her own thighs unreservedly.

Mike stares. After a second, something registers. "Are you… are you not wearing underwear?" She doesn't answer except to moan. He exclaims, "Were you not wearing _anything_ under that dress all night?!"

She turns to look at him. "I would have ruined a perfectly good pair of panties," she says matter-of-factly.

"You're obscene." When it makes Nadine snort, he insists, "You are! And a terrible influence."

"Don't tell me you're complaining." She sighs, and her eyes slide closed. "God, I could come right here."

"Please do," he says. He reaches over to help her do just that, but Nadine pushes his hand away. "What—?"

"Nuh-uh. You drive; I'll do this." As if to prove her point, she tilts her head back and lets out the tiniest moan as she slips a finger inside herself. "Because I swear to God, Mike, if you don't get us home in the next five minutes I will absolutely ruin your leather seats."

Mike does as she says, putting the car back into gear and pulling onto the road before merging seamlessly into the sparse traffic. "You're killing me," he announces. "I could help, you know." Christ, they can both _hear_ how wet she is.

"You're driving. It's dangerous," she says, mimicking him.

"I hate you."

She laughs. "Get me home and you can do something about that. I won't mind."

"Count on it, sweetheart." He makes a sharp turn that shifts her into the door. A few minutes later, he makes two more turns and then finally another turn onto his street. He's unclicking both of their seatbelts as he pulls the car into his driveway, parks, and shuts off the engine. He leans over the center console before she can even react, and knocks her hand out of his way. He slides two of his own fingers right inside her pussy.

"_Oh_," she moans. He pumps her slowly.

"There we go," he murmurs. "You're so beautiful." He works his fingers in a teasing rhythm, enjoying the way her body moves against them. "I almost feel guilty," he continues, his voice dropping to a growl that sends a shiver all the way down her spine, "for what I'm going to do to you tonight." She gasps, and then he pulls his fingers out just as suddenly as he'd put them in. "Get inside," he orders.

Nadine takes a deep breath as Mike gets out of the car like nothing's happened. She takes a second for herself, wriggles her dress back down into place, and then opens her door and gets out on slightly shaking legs. Mike has bounded up to the front door without her and is unlocking it as she climbs the three steps to the stoop. He ushers her in ahead of him, slapping her ass playfully as she goes. He closes and locks the door behind him, toes off his shoes, and then immediately backs her into the nearest wall. He cups her jaw in one hand and kisses her firmly.

Nadine doesn't miss a beat, yanking his shirttails out of his pants as she steps out of her heels; her hands immediately fly to his belt buckle and undo the whole contraption before pushing both his pants and boxers down his legs. She presses her hips against his. He's already half-hard again.

He steps out of his pants. He lets her lead him backward toward the couch until it hits the back of her legs. She drops into it, sitting as he leans into her from above, and kisses him like it's going out of style. When he begins to move his lips down her neck, she buries her hands in his hair.

"Please me," she whimpers, gently pushing on his head. It's the closest she'll ever get to begging. It's all he needs.

Mike kneels down in front of her and pulls her hips to the edge of the couch. She lifts her hips so that he can shove her dress up to her waist. He guides her legs over his shoulders before pushing his face between them.

All in all, she doesn't last long like this. Considering she's been teetering on the edge for (she will admit) most of the night, it's a wonder she held out for this at all. She writhes her way near-completely off the couch as he flicks and licks and sucks on her cunt, and then she comes on his face with most of her body being held up by his head, his shoulders, his hands.

He barely gives her a second to catch her breath before he's lifting her up as he stands, then turns to sit down on the couch with her straddling his lap. She reaches her hand between them to grasp his cock. Wordlessly, she positions him at her entrance and takes just the head of him. She works her hips gradually to take more. It's always a little burn to adjust to him.

He watches her slowly fuck herself onto his dick with his slightly glazed, unfocused eyes. He rolls his hips up in counterpoint to hers. She makes a tiny noise and sends her hands into the couch cushions on either side of his head to grasp some stability. She's nearly fully seated when, on an upstroke, he clamps his hands down tight on her waist and holds her in place there, hovering just over the tip of him. Like she's a toy to position as he pleases. His expression is unreadable, but she knows he's doing this just to torture her.

She wriggles in his grip, seeking out what little friction he allows her.

"Stop that," he says calmly, like he's the poster child for self-control.

Her fingers curl into the cushions. She can't _stand_ all his teasing. "You need more than this," she breathes. "You want it as deep as I can take it. I know you do."

"Or maybe I just want to torture you."

"Torturing both of us."

"It's worth it."

She thrusts her hips against him minutely. "Come on, Mike," she coaxes. "Let me give you what you need." She leans in, pressing open-mouthed kisses against his jaw, up to his ear. Her muscles flutter over the head of his dick as if trying to draw him in deeper, and she knows, she just _knows_ it must be driving him crazy. It's driving her crazy.

Suddenly he pulls her down, all the way down, and she's crying out her pleasure. She buries her face in the crook of his neck as she clenches down on him in uncontrollable little quivers, adjusting to how _thick_ he feels inside her. He's groaning too, and she knows he's enjoying this just as much as she is. God, he feels good.

His head tilts back to rest against the cushions as Nadine rocks on top of him. She leans in to drag her lips along his neck.

Mike plucks at her hopelessly rumpled dress, still bunched around her midsection. "Why are you still wearing this?" he says. He reaches behind her and pulls the zipper down until the whole thing is loose enough to pull over her head and toss over the end of the couch. In turn, she undoes all the buttons of his shirt and pushes both halves aside so that her hands have access to skin. She doesn't bother trying to rid him of the clothing; she's just content to run her nails over his bare chest as she fucks him.

She rolls her hips fluidly, setting a pace that she would consider _vigorous_ but not _rough_ or _aggressive_ and holds this rhythm until he's moaning her name and grabbing her ass like he owns it. He's thrusting up to meet her downstrokes, and then all of a sudden his hands become a vice grip on her hips as he pushes into her — once, twice — forcefully. Bottoming out both times. Toeing the line at aggressive. She gasps, hips faltering.

"Come on sweetheart," he challenges, mouth curling into a smile. "You can do better than that."

"You're an ass," she says, though she doesn't really mean it. In truth, she _likes_ this part of being with him, likes the banter between them, likes that it doesn't stop even for sex. But as her version of punishment, she tightens around him like a vice until she sees his jaw clench, until he's gritting his teeth against her offensive.

She knows exactly what he wants from her; what he needs. If he wants more, she can give him that.

Yeah, she's going to fuck him _senseless_.

She rises up and brings her hips down on him hard. And again, leaning back a little to maximize her leverage, one of her hands braced on his thigh. And again, and she bottoms out every single time and it's so _good_, so _deep_, so perfectly slick and hot and hard that she can feel herself nearly going cross-eyed with the pleasure.

And then Mike lets out a downright filthy groan and she knows she's got him. "Good enough for you?" she quips between harsh breaths.

He's an incessant dirty talker in bed, and he's babbling to her now in a ceaseless stream that lets her know that yes, in fact — it's up to par. "Fuck," he gasps at the end. His head tilts back toward the ceiling.

Nadine bounces on top of him with an almost desperate fervor now, chasing her edge. She's flushed and heated and she can feel the sweat misting over her skin; gathering at her temples, the nape of her neck, between her breasts. She brings his hand to her lips and closes her teeth gently around his thumb. She swirls her tongue around it until it's nice and wet and until he's cursing at both the sight and sensation. Then she guides his hand to where they're joined, trusting that he'll know how to give her what she needs.

And he does. He presses his thumb against her clit until she arches, and then he makes tight little circles right over the tip of it until she's practically keening in his lap.

"_Yes_," she whimpers, her movements becoming jerky and unpredictable. "Oh, keep going, please—" She arches with a cry, and then judders against him as he watches. He lets her use his body for her pleasure, holding still, not interfering with the progression of her orgasm except to keep drawing light circles on her clit and holding her in place when she seems in danger of falling over.

She collapses heavily against him after, damp lips against his neck, body still shivering through a row a smaller aftershocks. He tenses against the impossibly delicious feeling of her contracting endlessly around his dick. He strokes the small of her back as she floats down from her high.

Snuggled against him, she tightens around him again in a strong, deliberate pulse. She's rewarded with a sharp inhale from him.

"Sweetheart," he grits out. His hands clench on her hips.

She brings her mouth to his, kisses him tenderly. "Let's take care of you, now," she murmurs against his lips.

She begins to move again, rides him with deep, sultry rolls of her hips, allowing him to set the pace and to guide her with his hands. He wants it slow, lush, deep. He likes to hear her moan in his ear, likes to hold her close to him, likes to feel her body pressed against his.

She can tell when he gets close because his breathing becomes short and harsh and he begins to pull her down on him with a lesser degree of control. Where her neck meets her shoulder, Mike bites down. That little shock of pleasure-pain almost triggers another mini-orgasm for her and she yelps. Her inner walls shudder gently around him and that's enough to do him in. He moans right into her skin as he spends himself inside her.

He sinks back against the cushions, holding her tightly against his chest. They're both sweat-slick and breathing hard, their bodies throwing out heat like they don't know what to do with it. They lay against each other like that for a long moment, fully satiated and content in the silence.

Once she feels like she'll be able to get her feet under her, she sits up and climbs off of him carefully, Mike grimacing as he slips out of her. "Gonna clean up," she mumbles, already feeling their fluids creeping down her thigh. She walks stiffly down to the hall bathroom to take care of it.

When she emerges again, Mike is sitting on the couch wearing nothing but his boxers. She sees that he's collected the rest of their clothes and thrown them together over the arm of the couch. On the coffee table, two wine glasses and a new bottle of merlot, cracked open and left to breathe. Lazily, he pats the spot next to him on the couch. His eyes travel her naked body with obvious appreciation, but she doesn't feel exposed. She walks toward him and maybe even puts a little extra sway in her hips for his benefit.

Instead of sitting where he'd offered, she climbs into his lap again and kisses him deeply, sliding her tongue against his and burying her hands in his hair. He responds immediately, a quiet moan catching in his throat. His arms wrap around her and pull her in even closer.

"Hi there," he says softly, when she pulls away just a little.

"Hey," she says. She makes as if to get off his lap, but he tightens his arms around her and so she stays where she is.

"You're killing me, you know."

Her smile is wide. "Are you complaining?"

"I might tomorrow, when my back stiffens up."

"I'll be gentle next time," she offers sweetly. She gives him a final peck on the lips before climbing off and settling into a more comfortable position next to him on the couch. When Mike leans forward to pour their wine, she teases, "Are you trying to get me drunk, Barnow? After all that?"

"Maybe I wanna get lucky again tonight."

"You were gonna get lucky anyways. I'm not done with you yet."

He's grinning like a schoolboy as he hands her a glass. "Cheers to _that_," he says, and taps his glass against hers.

"But maybe," she begins thoughtfully.

"Hm?"

"If you relax me enough, get me loose enough…" she trails off, biting her lip.

"Yeah?" he prompts. He takes a sip from his glass, waiting for her to finish off the thought.

She looks over at him innocently. "Maybe I'll let you take my ass."

He chokes on his wine.

* * *

_A/N: Because their first scene in Article 5, where she had gotten ready for work at his house, was clearly preceded by post-date-night sex on his living room couch. Clearly! _


End file.
